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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26809834">between pages</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LIGHTSJOON/pseuds/LIGHTSJOON'>LIGHTSJOON</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ONF (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Best Friends, Friendship, Friendship through the years, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, hyojin is a book keeper and I would like to stay there all day thank you, i apologize for this horrible writing, if seungjun says his name is spelt with a u then its spelt with a u, seungjun is in love with hyojin but only if you squint, seungjun is kind of petty and hasty but y'know angst, stream sukhumvit swimming, tbh this fic is kind of trash and I’m really sorry lol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:49:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,834</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26809834</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LIGHTSJOON/pseuds/LIGHTSJOON</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"you are waiting for someone who is not coming back..." </p><p>or; </p><p>seungjun realizes hyojin's worth a little too late.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Hyojin/Lee Seungjoon | J-Us</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is work is not beta read, I apologize for any mistakes in advance.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Working in a lightly used book shop must have been like living the autumn season all year long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Seungjun, words escaped him whenever he was asked to describe the feeling of happiness that came with visiting the small corner store. Although it was particularly dusty, that was merely part of its overwhelming charm. The specks of dust danced in the air as the golden hour sunlight streamed through the shutters, covering ever vacant spot upon the worn shelves lining the perimeter of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been coming to this lightly used bookstore ever since he was an adolescent. It was a small store he’d always managed to just walk past on his way home from school, but on one especially long walk home after receiving his monthly report card, he decided to stop in to kill whatever time he could before going home. He distinctly remembered it smelling of cinnamon scented pine cones, like the one the markets decorated their stalls with around the holidays, and a slight hint of mildew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the years that scent has somehow morphed into nothing, most likely because he spent nearly everyday in this shop, but he was willing to sacrifice the bittersweet scent for the company. There were an infinite number of titles haphazardly lining each of the shelves, as if someone had accidentally left behind a precious belonging on their way out the door. There was something a bit sad about seeing the half torn spines and curled paperbacks completely tossed aside, but he couldn’t help but be comforted by the idea that perhaps someone would be coming back for it one day. Or perhaps it would be adopted by another loving owner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe that owner would forever remain the tenants of the store, a young but lively family that enjoyed the company of books and the personalities confined between each page, each line. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome in...” a younger voice had called out dully.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungjun had rounded the corner of a shelf to find a young boy sitting behind a circular counter. He couldn’t have been too much younger or older than himself, which was somehow simultaneously enticing and puzzling. One thing he knew for sure was that the boy behind the counter looked familiar—in the sense that they live in the same small town and perhaps they had locked eyes as they passed by one another at the grocery store, or their mothers were patrons of the same bank, or were students in different classes at the same school.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no mistaking that vaguely familiar recognition in the eyes of the other boy. It was a strange yet sudden connection that hadn’t required any words or explanation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that unspoken understanding in mind, Seungjun tightly wrapped his fingers around the straps of his backpack as he introduced himself for the first time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hyojin!!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Seungjun shouted as he flung open the front door to the shop. He raced down the aisle until he reached the counter. “I did it! I passed the university entrance exam! Can you believe it?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyojin’s face lit up with pride and happiness. He lifted the loose slab of the counter that allowed himself to get in and out from behind the desk, and raced forward until Seungjun was engulfed in his arms. “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>proud of you. You have no idea how happy I am for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they pulled away, Seungjun stumbled back a bit until the planes of his back were resting against the side of a bookshelf. “What about you?! Did you get your results back yet?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the way Hyojin scratched the back of his neck before saying a word that had Seungjun feeling a bit on edge. When the former sighed something deep and anxious, Seungjun pushed himself away from the shelf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyo??” He prompted, gently enclosing his fingers around the brunette’s wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t take the exam.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungjun blinked once, twice, maybe a third time as he allowed the confusion to sink in. “What do you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t need to take the exam,” Hyojin stated firmly, as if he’d had made up his mind about it long before they began studying together. “Why should I have to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to go to a nice school and get a degree when I have the bookstore? This is my life. My childhood. It’s been my parents’ lives for many years. It’s the very place our friendship blossomed into what it is today. I couldn’t imagine my parents selling it to anyone, just to turn it into something meaningless.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what about all of those things we talked about?” Seungjun’s voice shook with something that vaguely felt like anger. “We promised to go to school together, to struggle and graduate together. At least I’m sure we did, because I sure as hell know that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seungjun—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do those promises mean nothing to you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyojin leaned against the counter, shoving his fingers into his jeans pockets. “Of course they mean something to me. They mean everything to me. You’re my best friend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why did you lie to me? Why didn’t you just tell me that you’ve had your life all figured out?” Seungjun crossed his arms across his chest. “You’re making me feel like a fool.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that big of a deal, Seungjun…it’s just school.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungjun flinched at the response. They’d been friends for years now, and not once had they actually had a serious argument. There had never really been anything to argue over. For the greater majority of times, they were always on the same page. Or at least that’s what he thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> school, Hyojin,” he retorted bitterly. “And you know it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, he really didn’t care to hear anything else his best friend might have had to say. Instead, he readjusted his backpack around his shoulders and made his way for the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just about to yank it open and walk out when Hyojin called out, saying, “You’re taking this too seriously, Seungjun...let’s just talk about this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungjun let his hand hover over the door handle for several heartbeats. As much as he wanted to stay and unleash everything he felt, he didn’t want to say something he might regret. So, rather than fueling Hyojin with his disappointment and anger, he pushed down on the rough handle and refused to look back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things hadn’t ever been the same between them since that day. Somewhere deep inside, Seungjun knew he missed his best friend. There was nothing more valuable and precious than their friendship, that simple spark they’d both felt on that first day in the shop. Yet, Seungjun couldn’t bring himself to face the elder to apologize for the things he’d said, for essentially disappearing without a trace. He felt overwhelmed with embarrassment that he blew up at him over something so ridiculous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, he knew that Hyojin didn’t want to go to school. He knew better than to expect that Hyojin would give up the store for a piece of paper that would likely cost several thousands of dollars. Hyojin’s whole life had always been the bookstore, was always going to be the bookstore, whether he wanted to take ownership of it or not. Luckily for Hyojin’s parents, his best friend loved books more than his own well being. He was simple like that—knew exactly what he wanted and was going to stick by that decision until he decided that he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. But that day was far off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t even celebrate their high school graduation together, even though he knew Hyojin had spent what was left of that remaining school year trying to repair what had been damaged. And at the time, Seungjun felt he’d been justified in maintaining his space. He knew it sounded dramatic but the trust between them had been broken, no matter how small the crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never once thought that the silence would eventually become mutual, especially since Hyojin was supposed to be the fighter between the two of them as ironic as it may sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyojin had spent nearly the entire summer post-graduation attempting to reach out in order to mend what had been maimed. Seungjun wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Hyojin make more than three phone calls in the time that they’d been friends, and somehow he managed to call over two hundred times in the matter of weeks. In a twisted way, Seungjun felt comforted by the idea that Hyojin cared so much, even when he himself was going out of his way to ignore him. However, once Seungjun had packed his things and moved across the country to study, he received nothing but pure deafening silence on Hyojin’s end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that the elder was only going to fight back for so long. Hyojin had never been the sort of person to stick his neck out for anything, or anyone, for an excessively long stretch of time. Any other person would have done the same exact thing if they’d been in Hyojin’s shoes. Frankly, Seungjun couldn’t help but feel that it was his turn to build up his maturity, at least long enough to finally have a proper discussion with his best friend. But something about it all made him feel anxious, his heart threatening to carve itself from his chest just moments anytime he was near moments from dialing Hyojin’s phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five years later, Seungjun was walking across his graduation stage. His parents had come, were cheering him on from a spot they’d make sure he’d be able to see them in the massive ocean of people, but it was the empty seat next to them that made it feel like he was forging a smile that wasn’t his own. He hadn’t invited Hyojin, but his parents said they’d been insisting to the elder that he come. In the end, this had been the result, and his chest felt hollowed out from the small gap in the ecstatic happiness he surely thought he would feel on that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything he’d done and said over the years had brought him to this moment, back to the place he surely thought he’d never be welcomed back to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been an additional year and a half since his college graduation, and in that time he’d spent away from home he’d permanently moved to Seoul for work. He’d managed to get a job as an assistant to a fairly popular book editor at a renowned publishing company based out of Seoul, he was the first of his college classmates to secure a job of such scale. All-in-all, he was happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or at least he should have been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d gone to excessive lengths to try and push Hyojin out of his heart, out of his mind. No amount of alcohol, food, or hours spent digging himself deeper into his work could ever distract him from the ache that had formed deep in his heart. It was an obsessive nagging feeling that no doctor could cure, keeping him awake for an ungodly number of hours in the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungjun didn’t want to be the first to crack, to be the first to admit that he desperately missed his best friend. His pride had held him back for all of these years, unable to relinquish its firm decision to a soft hearted boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausted</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was tired of not being able to sleep, of not being able to talk to the person he cared about most when he’d had a rough day, or got reprimanded by his seniors. Of course, he’d made friends in college and they’d been the first line of defense for these trivial issues that weighed on his mind, but it never felt the same. They couldn’t hear him, couldn’t understand what his heart was secretly crying out for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he impulsively bought a bus ticket to that small hometown—the one he swore to never return to—in the middle of the night. He didn’t even bother packing a bag before heading out the door with only his wallet and his damaged pride. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four excruciatingly long hours later, he’d managed to make it into town not too long after the bookstore had opened. He thanked whatever higher being that may be looking over him that Hyojin’s parents had decided that the store would open each morning at six. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The facade of the store hadn’t changed at all. It were as if he’d gone home for the evening only to come back the following day. The displays in the front windows were altered just barely, it’s natural charm somehow maintained even after all of these years. His hand caressed a dull corner of the store’s entrance and there was something about just touching this place, a second home that could never have been his home, that revived the spark he felt the very first time he chose to go inside. He realized that perhaps it had always been Hyojin calling out to him, beckoning him to discover that he was alive and waiting for him. All of the long hours he’d spent here doing homework, watching the counter for Hyojin whenever he needed to step out for dinner, reading and sorting through titles he swore to hate until the end of his days—he’d taken it all for granted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were people across the globe who claim that materials like wood and stone were capable of soaking up the energy that is exerted by people, thus storing the memories there. For a long time, Seungjun couldn’t bring himself to believe something so ridiculous, but there was no refuting the dormant emotions he’d spent years suppressing rushing through him like an adrenaline rush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungjun took a deep breath and pushed the door open without any sense of hesitation. The wafting scent of cinnamon and the sight of disheveled stacks of books littering along the floor could have brought tears to his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> more books than he remembered, almost as if this small town had abandoned reading all together and left the stories to Hyojin for safe keeping. There was no better person to trust in with such a possession. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though the exterior of the store appeared as if it had been captured in a moment from a time ago, the interior had changed immensely. Hyojin and his family had replaced the dark tattered worn bookshelves with glistening white ones. It made the room itself feel a lot more spacious and bright. Perhaps it was nothing but a stunt to hide just how little they tended to the dust in their tiny shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome in!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air around him felt as if it had thinned out into nothing until his lungs were lit aflame. There was no mistaking that voice. It was a bit deeper than he remembered, much more mature, but it still sounded very much so like him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungjun was sure that he’d lost all control of his body as he made his way through the maze of shelves until he found himself in the middle of the store. The circular counter that had once been there was no more, replaced by a u-shaped desk where Hyojin now sat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was...absolutely breathtaking. In many ways he hadn’t appeared to age a bit, but even though he was sitting there was no denying that he’d grown in both height and his features. Gone were the round cheeks he enjoyed pinching whenever the elder was lost in some train of thought, his face had chiselled out quite nicely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Hyojin’s soothing voice grounded him in so many ways that he’d been completely ignorant to. The beginning of a smile began to form on his lips as he took a step forward, saying breathlessly, “It–it’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blank stare settled on Hyojin’s face and for a long moment they just studied one another, as if they were seeing each other anew. But something about Hyojin’s expression was unsettling, unlike all of those years before, there was no spark in his eyes. He didn’t even look remotely surprised to see him, almost as if he’d expected him to show up wallowing at his doorstep like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel free to look around,” Hyojin offered. “Most of the books are marked down at half of the original retail price.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seungjun’s brows furrowed in confusion. Had Hyojin always been this angry? Had he been so upset with how Seungjun reacted back then that he’d decided to become estranged? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hyojin?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The brunette lifted his eyes from the book that sat on the desk in front of him, dog-earring the page as he usually did. Hyojin arched an eyebrow in silent question, giving Seungjun another once over before leaning back in his chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but...have we met?” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. one year earlier. [hyojin]</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter has not been beta read or edited! pls forgive this awful writing lol </p><p>but here's the follow up chapter everyone has been asking for :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“So what you’re saying is...he doesn’t remember </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor that had been attending to Hyojin for nearly a week now stood at the edge of the bed. He was flipping through the imaging scans they’d taken of Hyojin’s brain not too long after the accident, he almost looked defeated, as if he’d run out of explanations to console his anxious parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The scans don’t show any sort of immediate damage to the brain, scull, or head.” The doctor let the stack of papers flop back against his clipboard, lowering it until it was resting against the foot of the bed. “Physically, his brain is as healthy as it could possibly be. He doesn’t seem to be experiencing a fugue form of dissociation. He is more than capable of reciting all of the basic information about himself, as well as the structure of his daily life and routine. Instead, there are residual memories that are being blocked due to the traumatic nature of the accident.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The accident itself had been non-life threatening according to the surgeons and the doctors who’d been attending to him since he’d been admitted. He managed to scathe by without any damage to the internal organs, but had been scheduled to be discharged by week's end with a hip fracture. That was until they’d discovered that his memory was a lot foggier than they initially anticipated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Additionally, over the last few days, several detectives and police officers had stopped by to question him about what he remembered about the suspects involved. According to the eyewitness testimony of several people, who were dining at a small cafe nearby, they’d witnessed a car speeding down the main road, the same one Hyojin had been riding his bike down on his way home. Apparently, the driver had gone out of their way to crash right into Hyojin before speeding off again. The detectives seem to believe that the driver used it as a distraction in order to slow down the police who’d already been chasing after them. All of which had been news in and of itself to Hyojin. The only thing he could remember regarding the accident was waking up on the side of the road surrounded by a crowd of frantic strangers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyojin’s mother sighed, “Residual memories...like what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It really could be anything.” The doctor stated matter of factly. “This sort of amnesia is rare, but in the cases we’ve seen and studied, the brain puts up a shield against people, memories, or feelings from the patient’s past that might have triggered elevated levels of distress. When the body goes into shock due to some sort of trauma—it’s probably safe to assume this accident is the direct cause of said trauma—the brain can respond in a variety of ways. In rare instances, the body starts to shut down, but we most commonly find that victims experience memory loss to some extent or another.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will those memories ever come back?” His father chimed in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every case is different…” The answer felt cheap in every way, but the doctor was definitive in his stance. “If the case is severe enough, the patient can be referred to a psychologist or psychiatrist to begin the process of cognitive-behavioral therapy. But most patients are merely asked to attend psychotherapy, or at least to try it to see how the body or mind will react to discussing the memories they can recall and the ones that are being suppressed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doctor eyed him speculatively and almost expectantly, as if he’d been waiting for an answer for a question he hadn’t bothered asking out right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it’s something you’d be willing to try, honey?” His mother asked hopefully, wrapping her frail fingers around his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind was running at least a thousand miles an hour. The doctor hadn’t done any wrong by him in recommending the therapy, even though he was already enrolled to begin physical therapy in the next few weeks, but he couldn’t help but feel reluctant to accept the referral. He wasn’t even sure what sort of memories were missing, wasn’t fully aware of the events that were absent from his personal timeline. What if the memories he was supposedly blocking out were harmful to him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Based on the doctor's explanation, his brain blocked the memories due to their stressful nature. Why would he want to remember something like that when he was completely content with remaining ignorant to it all? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I—” Hyojin took a deep breath, his back sinking as deep into the pillows as he could get. “I don’t know. I need time to figure this out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d spent a total of two weeks in the hospital. He spent most of his time either sleeping or being forced to retake scan after scan. The doctors wanted to gather as much information about his condition as they could possibly get their hands on, and he couldn’t blame them for being curious. They were doctors after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nonetheless, he couldn’t be happier to be going home. He was tired of being confined to that hypnotically pale hospital room, it made those two weeks feel like one overwhelmingly long day. He was used to having some structure in his life, but too much structure was suffocating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the mind numbing pain that was being caused by his hip, he felt great. What he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted was to go home and sleep in his own bed. It almost felt like a sick joke to say he couldn’t remember the last time he had a good night's sleep in his own room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally arrived, his father helped him out of the car, wheeling him into the house in the wheelchair that they would be renting from the hospital until it was time for him to attend physical therapy. Everything about their small quaint home made him feel like he was floating through nostalgia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their family had always been a bunch of minimalists, they didn’t care for collecting things they didn’t really need, and frankly they had never been financially stable enough to spend money on this and that. But they could spare the extra money for the many picture frames that were carelessly hung on the living room walls. His mother claimed that it gave their house just a hint of personality, and that alone made him smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His room was a lot messier than he recalled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The burgundy comforter had been tossed aside, as if he’d gotten up late and couldn’t spare even a second to make his bed up before leaving. He flexed the muscles of his memory to remember why he’d been so desperate to leave so quickly. Was he late to work? Was he supposed to be meeting someone? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyojin, are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He forced himself to relinquish the hold on his expanding frustration at the sound of his father's voice breaking through the mental wall he’d been building day by day ever since he woke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…I’m fine, just a little frustrated that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look on his father’s face couldn’t have anything other than pure sympathy. “I wish I could say I understand what you’re going through, but I don’t, and I don’t think I ever will. So, please forgive me if I’m slow to adjust.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault. No one could have predicted that this was going to happen…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you try reaching out to Seungjun again? Maybe now that he’s graduated college he’ll have a little more sense to talk to you.” His mother suggested to him a few weeks later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were on their way into his weekly physical therapy appointment and if he hadn’t been confined to a wheelchair he would have stopped dead in his tracks. Something about the name itself pressed down on him like a heavy weight, the familiarity of it a burden on his heart. A wave of confusion washed over him like a heavy rainfall, soaking him so thoroughly until he felt numb with anxiety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom…” Hyojin scratched at cuticles nervously. “How do you know that name?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do I </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> know that name?” She chuckled half-heartedly. He could hear the shift in her voice when she recognized what sort of conversation was about to unfold before her very eyes. “You two have walked a long road together…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What—” Hyojin could feel the question hesitating on his lips. As much as he wanted to understand who this familiar stranger was, there was no denying the fear that crawled up his spine. There were answers lingering in this name, in this person, and he knew that he needed to know what secrets it held when he softly asked, “What does that name mean to me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without any hesitation, she placed a consoling hand on his shoulder and said, “Everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That same evening Hyojin began to finally brave the photos that were pinned just above his desk. There weren’t many of them, about half a dozen, but there was no mistaking the young onyx haired boy that stood beside him in each of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Middle school graduation. What looked to be someone’s birthday. Christmas. And other various candid shots of them in small but entertaining spots around town. The photos alone were enough confirmation that he and Seungjun were in fact close, close enough to spend memorable and precious days of the year together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite it all, he had a hard time coming to terms with and understanding how someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> important just seemed to vanish overnight, as if he ceased to exist, wiped clean from the palette of his life. Those photos alone held more truth in them than his scattered memory ever could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was like a bystander in his own life, looking out into the void of a life he might never remember, with no opportunities for him to jump in and set things right, to put things back on their original path. He studied the photos, memorizing them down to the very last strand of hair on both of their heads, hoping that he would recognize </span>
  <em>
    <span>something, </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Riding the high of desperation, he began searching and scouring through each drawer of his desk. The pictures couldn’t have been the only evidence he’d left behind of their friendship. There had to be more. Because there had to be something that justified the deep ache that weighed on his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, Hyojin would have stayed up all night if his father hadn’t come into his room at four in the morning, demanding an explanation as to why he was making so much noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad…” his voice was strained, as if the air was beginning to catch in his throat. “I</span>
  <em>
    <span> have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to remember. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please...</span>
  </em>
  <span>please tell me I’m going to remember.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father sighed something sad as he surveyed the bedroom. It looked like a tornado and a hurricane had struck simultaneously; the contents of his drawers had been discarded on the floor, his mattress had been lifted from the bedframe and pushed up against the wall, books ripped out of the bookcase—he’d even gone as far as shuffling through the pages of each book to make sure there weren’t any loose objects settled between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t promise you that…” his father kneeled down next to him on the floor, caressing the point between his son’s neck and shoulder. “But we’ll do whatever we can to help you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The heavy tears trickled down his face, “My body can feel it, Dad...that there’s something </span>
  <em>
    <span>missing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. My mind can’t remember what it is, but my body hurts. It knows that something’s wrong.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father pulled him into his arms and let him cry for as long as he needed to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>sobbed</span>
  </em>
  <span> himself numb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hyojin!! I passed the college entrance exam!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why did you lie to me?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Do those promises mean nothing to you?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The same dream plagued him night after night. Memory. Dream. The terms almost felt interchangeable. To him, they were one and the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a year and he still wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to decipher what was truly a dream and what was a distorted memory. The dozens of psychotherapy appointments he’d attended, mostly for his mother’s sake, didn’t reveal anything he already didn’t know. Something deep in his heart was blocking what his mind craved to know, and the initial burning frustration that bubbled in the pit of his stomach had grown ice cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The brain has no heart and the heart has no brain. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But one cannot be without the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His parent’s had finally gained enough trust in themselves to start leaving the business of the bookstore to him. He was only allowed to work for half of the week, but he figured anything was better than nothing—better than spending his days uncontrollably spiraling into his deepest fears until he fell asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had nearly been an hour after opening when the first customer of the day stopped in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was already getting his feet wet with his personal copy of a collection of dark fairy tales when he managed a, “Welcome in!!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The customers never really deem a response, which never really bothered him, considering there were many times he hadn’t bothered with a greeting at all. So, instead, he went back to the first of many tales that would hopefully pass the time until evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just about to turn the page when he heard someone say, “Hyojin??” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting his eyes from the page, he followed the voice of the young man until his eyes beheld that young onyx haired child. One that had grown into a man at least. Lee Seungjun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thoughts raced at limitless speeds. All of the answers he ever wanted in his life were standing right before his every eyes. The young man was the key to everything he’d lost and more, was apparently the one person he cared for more than anything in the world, and yet...Hyojin felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What does that name mean to me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But he felt absolutely nothing. Whatever connection that had been shared between them, for however long, had been severed. He still wasn’t sure when or how, but seeing the raven haired boy standing before him made him confused. Perhaps angry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why now? Why did he have to show up </span>
  <em>
    <span>now?</span>
  </em>
  <span> When he’d finally accepted the fact that he’d never be able to remember who he was, what this person meant to him, and why it had made him feel so miserable every single day of his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frankly, he was exhausted. As much as he didn’t want to give into all of his endless doubts, just for once he would protect himself. When the time was right, he would meet Seungjun again. Maybe it would be a month from now, a year, maybe half a decade. For now...he wouldn’t allow himself to fall into the trap of his derisive hopes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he pushed himself deep in the chair and folded his hands in his lap. His heart screamed and begged for something, anything. It wanted the truth and nothing but the truth. And so did he. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He apologized to himself, “I’m sorry…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then swallowed the shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But have we met before?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and thats it!! I hope you all enjoyed! </p><p>pls feel free to leave a comment, feedback, or kudos :)</p><p>until the next one &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. bonus chapter. three years later.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>wooooo! bonus chapter!</p><p>it's pretty short, but I hope you enjoy :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was something about the Christmas season that made Seungjun feel like he was trekking through tar. Perhaps it was the rain and gloomy dark clouds that were putting him in a funk, or the fact that he was told he’d have to work on Christmas Eve...again, or maybe it was because he’d spent all of these years trying to convince himself that spending Christmas alone was probably for the best anyways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, Christmas, and the holiday season all together, stopped being important to him long ago. Even though his parents continued to pester him to come home and join them for Christmas. It would be just like old times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except it wouldn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t—couldn’t—bring himself to go back to that hole in the wall town. Everything about it reminded him of Hyojin, the memories they shared together, the memories they didn’t, and what had happened right under his nose. All because he’d let his pride stand in the way of what truly should have mattered. Not just that, but his undefinable anger towards himself, his parents, and even Hyojin and his family, stood in the way of him being able to think about and accept going there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What once used to be his safe haven, now appeared to be nothing but a hellish nightmare. One filled with the constant reminders of the wrongs he’d done to the person who was supposed his best friend. That place sucked the life out of him each time he passed through the border that separated one town from the next. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyday he wondered what would have happened if he would have just stayed when Hyojin asked him all those years ago? What if he hadn’t walked out that door? If he’d looked back. Would Hyojin have been in his accident? Where would they be right now? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an endless downward spiral of what-if’s and what-could-have-been that kept him awake at night, and sometimes even kept him from concentrating at work during the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite talking to some of the best therapists in the city, he still had nightmares. They were rarely ever the same, but the end result never seemed to change. They always managed to end with Hyojin getting hurt or Hyojin forgetting everything about him and their friendship. And sometimes he needed to remind himself that both had actually become a reality. Hyojin </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been seriously injured...and worst of all he’d forgotten him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each time his phone buzzed he couldn’t help but hope that it was the elder. That perhaps he’d finally remembered something...anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been three years since they saw one another in that dusty old bookshop, and when Seungjun had discovered the nature and extent of how hurt Hyojin had been by his childish behavior. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blocking one trauma due to another trauma. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s what Hyojin’s father had said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We think the stress of both was too much for him, so his brain is trying to compensate by forgetting the greater of the two. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The undeniable sadness and loneliness that Hyojin must have felt when he’d left became clearer than ever when Seungjun sat down to have that conversation with Hyojin’s parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They described in great detail the way Hyojin’s attitudes and behaviors shifted and changed for the worse prior to the accident. Hyojin had always been a night owl, but he’d become a bitter insomniac. Apparently, it had gotten so bad that his parents had to revoke Hyojin’s employment at the bookstore, claiming that he needed to spend his time during the day to sleep and rest, that they would find different ways for him to help in the store outside of business hours. He’d grown short tempered, unable to hold back even the slightest annoyances from either them or the customers that came into the shop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The patient book loving boy he’d loved and cherished with everything had been completely erased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was always during the holidays that Seungjun wished he could turn back the clock, rewind and start things over from the beginning to remedy his fatal mistake. It was probably loneliness speaking, but… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed Hyojin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you doing today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyojin was sitting on the plush faux leather couch just across from his usual therapist. Her office was unusually cold for this time of year, so he was glad he chose to wear a thick sweater to their session. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a bit tired, but I’m managing. How are you? It’s been a few weeks since we’ve seen one another.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flashed him a weak but considerate smile, “I’m well, thank you. Have you been sleeping throughout the night lately?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyojin tilted his head in contemplation. Luckily, he wasn’t staying up for the greater majority of the night, but he was still staying up long enough that he’d wake up feeling fatigued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More or less,” he answered simply. She nodded in an acknowledgement of sorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She discarded the usual pen and notepad she kept on her person, pushing them to the furthest edge of the couch. When she met his eyes she asked, “And Seungjun? Have you talked to him yet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t feel shocked or surprised at all by her question. If anything, he’d expected it. It was always the root of their weekly or monthly meetings, but he was always regretful to inform her that the answer remained the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truthfully, he didn’t have the strength or the courage to reach out to Seungjun. Not after their strange reunion from three years prior. Everything about their friendship, or what might have been left of it, felt dirty. Even though the greater majority of his memory had resurfaced, he was still having a hard time trying to accept that those memories are the real memories, and not something he might have dreamed in a nightmare. The process of distinguishing was more difficult than ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the last thing he wanted was to give Seungjun (and maybe even himself) the false notion that everything could go back to normal. Because even though he knew that Seungjun wanted to try, he knew better than anyone that nothing could ever go back to normal between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had forfeited almost ten </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> of friendship. That was more time spent apart than the time they’d spent together when they were in public school. The people they are today could never be the people they were almost a decade prior. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d abandoned the innocence that naturally came with being kids, the naivety of being adolescents. If the temporary loss of his memory taught him anything, it’s that he wished they could have been more mature about how they handled the fragile connection that was their friendship. He had never been one to believe that simple decisions could steer the direction of a person's life...but it wasn’t until Seungjun had walked out the front door of the bookshop, without looking back, when he realized that even the most subtle decisions could condemn them forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyojin??” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a step away from his thoughts, but only long enough for him to shake his head in response. “I haven’t told him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think he has a right to know? To make a decision for himself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyojin shuttered a breath that made his chest feel constricted. “This is a two way street…his decision is just as important as mine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The therapist shifted her weight, crossing one leg over the other. “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> important, but it seems that you’re making the decision for both parties instead of letting him have a say.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only been a year since the memories have come back…” Hyojin countered. “I’m still trying to sort through what’s real and what my mind has made up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn't having the chance to speak with him help you clear up some of those self-guided misunderstandings?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Misunderstand or not, he was scared. There was no telling how Seungjun would react to finding out that the memories had flooded back into his life. Would he be excited? Would he be accepting of it all and embrace him? It was the possibility that Seungjun had taken these years to move on and further distance himself from everyone else that truly frightened him, and was the primary reason he’d kept his mouth shut this entire time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to jump to conclusions and tell the world that he was fine, that everything was back to normal, for the fear that one morning he’d wake up and the memories would just be...gone. Again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you not want him to know perhaps?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyojin sighed, combing his fingers through his bangs. “I’m just...scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the fears we lock up deep inside of our hearts that usually hold the key to opening the door and allow us to step out into freedom.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for reading!! </p><p>from now on, if I continue to add anything they'll be considered bonus chapters! </p><p>thank you so much for the support! pls leave a comment or kudos if you want. </p><p>also follow me on twt @LIGHTSJ00N</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hiii!! if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! </p><p>pls let me know if you guys would like a follow up chapter. there's a lot more to this ending than you might believe. that in and of itself is almost a whole other short story. </p><p>kudos, comments, and feedback are always welcome :) thank you so much again!</p><p>stream stupid swimmy to 10M</p></blockquote></div></div>
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